


This Time Around

by RussianEmpress



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Being in a prison camp, Brainstorm being Brainstorm, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, One-Sided Relationship, Other, Romance, for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-04 21:43:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5349626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianEmpress/pseuds/RussianEmpress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Brainstorm managed to save Quark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just Hang On A Little Longer

**Author's Note:**

> Brainstorm gets cold feet when his bigger plans for extinguishing Megatron in the past start to fall apart. But that doesn't mean he can't go back and set out for what he originally intended to do.

“Oh Hell.” It was all Brainstorm could muster up to say to himself when he spotted Cyclonus’ powerful jet mode fly overhead at a furious speed. Here he was 5 million years in the past and Rodimus Prime just couldn’t let things be, could he. That over prideful Prime was going to screw everything up and quickly if Brainstorm didn’t get moving again. 

“Dammit, Rodmius.” He said again to himself, looking up into the clean and bright K'th Kinsere skyline. You could see the stars shine even at this time of day. Brainstorm knew that from this point of time he was currently standing in, it was only going to take 12 more years before this city’s skyline would be gray with smog, thick gun smoke, and death when the daily marches of the Decepticon armies would start trudging in.  
He picked up his view finder, focused it across the street, and didn’t see who he was searching for. He flicked up his wrist and re-read his automatic timer that was linked to the inner workings of his briefcase. It was too soon. It was the right moment yet. He was still too early. 

He need to jump again, and he needed to jump in the next 34.64 seconds if he wanted to land in the right spot on his holy crusade. Especially with that brooding Non-Con, or whatever Cyclonus referred to himself as these days, was on the lookout for him. And in turn, so was Rodimus and whoever else he must have dragged along for his little adventuress joyride. 

Brainstorm fiddled with his wrist, hit the same keys he had before he landed here, and crossed his fingers. The energy fields around him twisted, he could feel the pressure build around him, it created an incredibly uncomfortable static inside his head and then he felt himself lurch forward. Or was it backward? It was impossible to tell which way was up for those split nano-seconds when suddenly space and time wrapped itself around you and threw you in some direction and in some time. Sparks flew and sizzled around him, a soundless wind passed through his audio respective and everything went from a bright gold to a bleak black to a pure white out in a blink of an eye and suddenly he was standing somewhere new. Sometime new. 

There was another jolt. Somewhere not too far off. Brainstorm couldn’t help but feel annoyed. He knew it was the rest of the crew from the Lost Light, still hot on his heels. He thought he would have jumped far enough to buy him a little more alone time, but Preceptor must be helping them keep close track of him. The only one that was worthy of being called his “genius rival” could be so damn annoying when he wanted to be. And rudely prescient. 

He shook his head, clearing the fuzz from his system and felt reassured that he was still in the same city, just like the other jumps. He was still amazed his time traveling machine was holding out and still preforming as it should be. This time, it was night, the ever reaching inkiness of space went on forever and Brianstorm’s sharp optics couldn’t read any of the actual stars within the dark blanket. Just hundreds and hundreds of spotlights, blinking bulbs and flashing neon lights flooding all of Cybertron with their holy bright lights that promised good times and tasty engeron drinks at every corner of the planet. 

Brainstorm couldn’t help feel a little nostalgic for these times. Of course there was that sad feeling poking him, this was pre-war of course. Everyone longed for the days of Cybertron before the wars. Before the madness spread to every corner of the planet and beyond, into other galaxies. This was why they were all out in the middle of space trying to find The Knights of Cybertron, were they not? But no, there was another lost lingering feeling that crept up on him as he transformed into his sleek aircraft mode and blasted off into the illuminated sky. He didn’t have to go far and landed on a roof top, a cross the street from a simple building with a few large windows and one small sign. Probably the only sign on the whole damn street that wasn’t buzzing with neon tubes and a winking icon. 

It simply read “T.o.T” in those familiar curvy ancient Cybertrian letters that Brainstorm knew all too well. His old stomping ground lab was properly named “Thoughts of Tomorrow”, something that gave the old and quite lab a little flavor. It was supposed to be called “Thought for Tomorrow”, but the investors back then didn’t think “TFT” had the right ring to it. Something about stocks not reflecting well if stock holders put their money into a company that closely sounded like TNT. 

Brainstorm sighed. There was that sad nudging again. If only that could have been the most problematic thing at the time…the naming of a public stupid lab building. As he looked across the street at the dark building, Brainstorm reached for his wrist again. This was the right place, but certainly the wrong time. The lab was closed, all the lights were off, save for the few flashlights that could be clearly seen from his view point that scanned the hallways, back and forth, from a lazy security guard’s hand.  
He had to go, he had to jump. He looked down below to the streets just in time and saw that little nobody heading towards Maccadam's New Oil House. Rung looked as nervous as Brainstorm knew Rodimus must have been feeling of losing his tracking on him. It didn’t matter, the mech he was searching for wouldn’t be here this late regardless.

Brainstorm flicked up his wrist again, pushed in his code once more but stopped before his finger tapped the final key. His brain started to connect logically what he was seeing. He hadn’t been standing there on that rooftop for more than a few minutes and yet there was Rung, already on the same street as him, and who was going straight for that Oil House without a seconds thought. 

They knew. 

They had figured it out. No, Preceptor figured it out, he must have. Who else. A flare of quick panic ran its course through Brainstorm’s circuits. It made the finger hoovering over the final number key twitch. He had to think. Rodimus was no doubt closing in on him, they weren’t even jumping after him any more. They were jumping WITH him. They were decades apart at the first jump, then only a few years, and just a week ago Cyclonus was flying overhead and now in the very same day Rung was walking below him. They weren’t even searching for him, Rodimus and his crew of merry men were just waiting for him to show up now. 

“No, no, no!” This was all going to be for nothing if he got caught now. 4 centuries of research and testing thrown out the stupid window. He was smarter than this. Brainstorm just needed time to think. Blast it! He didn’t have TIME to think. He had to act. But how.

This was all getting too messy. There were so many untested variables and that much was clear with Rodimus somehow figuring out how to follow him into the past. Something that had come up in his notes, but they were just so damn unlikely Brainstorm wrote them off when he shouldn’t have. He knew this was going to be the risk when he decided to try and save all of Cybertron by himself and singlehandedly murder the greatest murderous tyrant in the galaxy, (which was a little bit of an oxymoron now that his brain was kicked into high thinking mode). But now everything was slowly unraveling, in both his plans and in the very fabric of space and time he was currently occupying. He was getting chased by his own crew mates, his time hopping wasn’t getting him in the proper place, and he was down to only a few more chances before his machine burnt out on him. In his efforts to chance time, he was quickly running out of it simultaneously.

Doubt. 

An inventor’s greatest enemy and Brainstorm, being the universe’s greatest inventor, was starting to feel like doubt was about to capsize his small boat on his way to saving everyone. Doubt was peeking its ugly face, and its face was starting to form itself to look like Megatron. Cold and dirt grimed ruby stained optics glared at him from within the darkness of an endless hole in the ground and scared him to his core. That silver outline of the deadly War Lord’s dented helmet gleamed faintly under the fading lights of a dying planet. Brainstorm’s home, Cybertron torn apart and in flames. And all those millions upon millions of screams echoed into the never ending blackness of space, his friends and comrades, his very own species crying out for his help. He had the chance to stop all of this from happening, to stop the metaphorical rivers from running red with the bright glow of everyone’s energon that lapped at Megatron’s enormous feet. If he failed at this, then there was no reason in going back in the first place. Everyone would still end up dying and fighting and fighting and dying. He could try from this point. Try and change the outcome of so many things, knowing firsthand how they would play out. But what if his words of insane ravings of “Autobots” vs “Decepticons” would fall onto deaf ears, or worse, spys of the Functionalists? Where would he be then? 

Then he knew where he would be. Right next to Quark in a prison camp. Right next to the one person he set out to save, where he would die knowing that he could have at least saved him, the ONE he was supposed to save. At LEAST save HIM. So why not just set out what he intended to do in the beginning? Surely this made him a coward, backing down from his grand plan. No. It made him a hero. No. It made him a loyal friend? Brainstorm’s grip on is briefcase tightened, and his other hand tried to hold his head from exploding. Now he had a headache and it wasn’t just from jumping physically through time. 

He looked out from between his fingers, his dimly lit gold optics followed the completely unsuspecting psychiatrist on the street again. He bowed his head down, silently admitting a small form of defeat to himself. He will succeed in his original design, like all those thousands of blue prints that have ever crossed his impressively quick tinkering hands. His original plan bloomed before him and he checked his wrist. If he was going to do this, do what he intended, then he had to do it now. His new sets of plans had to be delated if he was going to get what he wanted. 

“I’m so sorry Chromedome.” His spark hurt as is mind’s eye saw his oldest friend sitting in the darkness of his hab suit, alone, the faint echoes of different voices bleeding through the walls, stringing along a clipped audio message that would slowly start to form a little speech until the very end when Rewind’s small voice would say “I love you” for the hundredth, if not hundred thousand time by now. 

“I’ll figure something else out later. I promise. This is just a setback, just a little “back to the ol’ chalk board”, that’s all. I’ll fix everything else later.” 

It was never a good sign when Brainstorm started to talk to himself to reassure himself. He steeled his nerves, and dropped his wrist back down. He shut the panel of keys and brought that gold-plated briefcase close to his chest. He held onto it for strength and lifted a foot to rest on the ledge of the building. 

“HEY!” Brainstorm called out. “Eyebrows! Up here!”

Rung jumped like one of those cat-like creatures in those cartoons that played often on Earth’s television shows, and spun around in a panic. He tripped over his own feet when Brainstorm landed impressively in front of him, those optics of his glaring down at him when Rung’s backside hit the pavement painfully. 

Brainstorm’s optic ridge raised up curiously when Rung fidgeted for something near his waist. He mistakenly pulled out one of his toy models, but held it like a blaster and threaded Brainstorm with the tail end of a little figure of the Lost Light. Rung’s thick black eyebrows flew up when he realized his mistake and how foolish he must have looked right now, on his back, trying to stop a mad genius with a little plastic figure. 

“I STILL don’t understand how you’ve managed to last for the last billion years, Rung. I truly don’t.”

“Brainstorm! Whatever you’re doing, stop!” Rung ignored the snide remark and hoisted himself up off the ground.

“You have no idea what you’re about to do, or rather undo, and how it’s going to destroy every-“

Brainstorm held up his hand and interrupted Rung’s warning. 

“Just call Rodimus. There’s something I need to do. There’s something you all need to know.” 

“I already did.”

“You did?”

Rung gripped his wrist and cradled it, giving it a few gentle spins. “When I fell…I landed on my commlink.” He admitted, if not a little embarrassed. 

“Not the most historical worthy moment,” Rodimus’ strong and oh-so-obnoxious leader-like voice called out from behind them. “But to be honest, moments I’m not in are hardly history worthy anyway. And now that I’m here. Put. The. Briefcase. Down, Brainstorm.” 

Brainstorm turned to face his captain and his other crewmates who all had some sort of weapon trained on him, all but Tailgate, who held onto a smoking briefcase of his own. Aha, so that’s how they were following him… Even Rewind had a gun pointed at him.

Brainstorm was about to turn his attention to Rodimus but then couldn’t tare his gaze off Rewind. The black and white minicon stood in front of Chromedome and stared back at him, alive and seemingly well.  
“But….how. I didn’t, I mean, I didn’t do… I still had to…” Brainstorm stammered. 

Rodimus saved him from his own brain module from melting down right there and then. With a few very careful steps, Rodimus held one hand out, a very patronizing way to try and come closer to a nut job, and the other hand remained on his blaster, his trigger finger itchy. 

“Yeah, surprise. Not as a big surprise as us finding out you somehow managed to travel back in time to try and kill Orion Pax, but hey, I’ll give you the point on that one.”

“Not to mention you’re a bleeding Decepticon!” Ripetide yelled a little too loudly into the night, his arms stretched out and his gun aimed at Brainstorm’s face, ready to blast through his battle mask at the word.  
“What? Wait, what?” Brainstorm held up his hands in surrender. “Wait, that’s a lot of information to be handed and a lot of pointed guns in my direction. But just, hear me out.”

“We’ll hear you out in council, back on the Lost Light, back in OUR time, but right now, you need to give me that briefcase and keep your hands where I can see them.” Rodimus tilted his head and activated his commlink. “Preceptor? We’ve wrangled in The Strom. I repeat, we wrangled in The Strom.” 

Brainstorm stared blankly at Rodimus and his deadpan optics clearly read, “Really?” 

“Shut it, I didn’t have time to think of cleverer operation name.” 

Time. That’s right. And Rodimus was cutting in on his. With movement that should have been impossible for the size of mech Brainstorm was, he whirled around and managed to jump behind Rung, effectively grabbing the smaller Autobot into a perfect choke hold. He pulled his own gun out of his forearm and the tip of it tapped the edge of Rung’s glasses. 

Whirl came forward, stepping over the minicons in front of him and narrowed his one optic dangerously. 

“Let the nerd go, Stormy.” He said. Brainstorm heard the clicks of Whirl’s firearms on his chest and wrists. Whirl could very likely fire even if Rung was still in the way, even though the whole point was to avoid hitting said hostage. Whirl hadn’t quite figured out how to handle himself when his “friends” or “people he happened to hate a little less and like a little more than just a lot” yet. 

Brainstorm stared at Rodimus’ grim features. Nobody was going to die tonight, not Rung, not himself, and if Brainstorm could help it, he was going to add one more life to that list.  
Brainstorm was incredibly observant at that moment and he knew he needed to act quickly. They were fools if they thought Brainstorm didn’t see the elegant side dip of Cyclonus’s head and shoulders, signaling to Whirl that he was going to jump in from the left and for Whirl to follow up on the right. He saw how Chromedome took a microscopic step back with his foot and brushed his thigh against Rewind’s shoulder to signal them to fall back and get out of the larger mechs way for when they would lunge forward. 

“Rodimus, I’ll be brief, I’m running out of time.”

“You and us both, buddy.”

“But you’re not going to stop me. Not when I worked so hard for this and so long. I’m too close.”

“Killing Pax isn’t going to let Megatron win the war, or anything insane like that. It’s just going to change things, most likely for the far, far worse.”

There was that point again. Brainstorm was confused why Orion Pax was brought up again.

“I’m not going to kill anyone. Well, I was. Yes, that’s, uh, that’s true. But not anymore.” 

“Anymore?” Rodimus was starting to feel antsy, Brainstorm could tell. Rung however didn’t feel as panicked as he thought he would. His small delicate hands just gripped Brainstorm’s forearm lightly as he was held in place. Maybe he was used to his sort of position. Maybe he just knew from gut instinct Brainstorm wasn’t going to shoot him. Brainstorm came to the conclusion it was both. 

“I was going to kill Megatron.” 

Everyone’s optics widened at his confession. 

“But I’m not even going to do that anymore. That plan is just too big, it’s…not falling into place like I had hoped. It just got out of my hands.” He lifted his arm around Rung’s neck to show that his grip was still firm. Rung struggled a bit to keep his neck cords from being crushed and was forced to stand on the tips of his toes. 

A beep and a whine came from Brainstorm’s briefcase. He was going to be pulled into another time jump in just a few seconds. 

“If any of you, EVER, trusted me, trust me now. I’m not going to kill anyone, but I am going to jump one more time, and then I’ll meet you all back on the ship with good ol’ Big Daddy M himself still there as our most beloved co-captain.”  
He shoved Rung away from him, whose face would have crushed itself into the ground but Whirl nabbed him and he clonked his helmet into the taller mech’s shoulder instead. 

Before a single shot was able to bounce off Brainstorm’s armor, he flashed like a bright purple ghost, and then blinked out of existence. Only one shot managed to zip out of its gun, but it hit the ground and blackened the spot the Weapons Expert stood a second ago. Everyone turned to look at Riptide’s smoking barrel. 

“What? He said if we ever trusted him. I knew the guy for like a week.” He smirked. “And he was building mega plasma death bombs that looked like pens during that week. Doesn’t seem like the most trust worthy Decepticon if you ask me. Oh wait, did we all JUST FORGET he’s got the biggest Con insignia on the inside of his freakin’ mask, or has all this time jumping made everyone forgetful AND stupid?”

Riptide casted his glance sideways to Cyclonus, and that was a very idiotic thing to do on his part. Cyclonus ignored him, narrowed his own red optics at the insult, but let it go. He didn’t care for Riptide’s ignorant and narrow minded opinions. He did however want to hear how Rodimus was going to proceed now. Tailgate however did give Riptide a swift tiny elbow to his kneecap. The boat mech crossed his arms and pouted.

“Well?” Cyclonus asked coolie, crossing his own arms over his chest.

Rodimus frowned and watched the smoke rise from the smoldering ash marked blast on the ground and turned to Chromedome. 

He echoed Cyclonus. “Well? You’ve know him longer than any of us. What do you think, Chromedome?”

“We need to go back to the ship.” Chromedome said evenly, lowering his weapon and looking down at Rewind. 

Rodimus touched the side of his helm when it chirped at him, Preceptor calling him on the other end. 

“What happened?” The scientist asked in a even panic. Rodimus could hear his frantic tapping of computer keys on his end.

“You were right on top of Brainstorm. Wait…you were NEXT to Brainstorm. Are you alright? I see he just jumped…” Preceptor let his words fade off.

“What is it, Precp? Where did he jump? Did the double crossing rat jump to Pax?”

More frantic typing filled Rodimus’ audios. 

“Talk to me Preceptor!” Everyone looked onto their Captain. 

“He jumped forward. Way, way, way forward. 8th cycle, 660.” 

Rodimus thought hard about the date. Orion Pax had long turned into Optimus Prime by then and fighting head to head with a young Megatron at that point. But the war hadn’t even been going on for that long either. It seemed like such a random date, something that seemed so insignificant. 

“Rodimus, he just jumped again.”

“When?”

“Now.”

“Now? Us now? Did he come back?”

“No. Now now. As in, his spark signature just showed up on my security monitors. He’s back in the lab…”

Chromedome large bulk seemed to relax, all the tension he was holding seeping out bit by bit. 

“Well I’ll be dammed.” Rodimus said with not a hint of pride in his voice.

“Brainstorm, that lunatic, he kept his word. Wow. Alrighty, then. I think we’ve all had a long day of bouncing around the time cosmos for a bit. I think it’s time for a light lunch and then we’re all going to have an excruciating long talk that I’m sure Ultra Magnus will find great joy in yelling at Mr. Not-So-Secret-Anymore-Briefcase-Brainstorm. Preceptor, beam us back home, if you would so kindly. 

“Uh, Rodimus?” Preceptor said anxiously over the commlink.

“Yeah?”

“Brainstorm isn’t alone. There’s another spark energy on the gird, but they aren’t registered on the ship’s main roaster.”

“You mean, he-?”

“Yes Captain. He’s brought someone back with him.”


	2. Hang On Tight

When Rodimus and his search party where teleported for the final time, back onto the Lost Light and back into the current and correct time line, the Captain was a bit, sorta, kinda, but-not-really surprised to see Ultra Magnus using all his strength and bulk, and STILL somehow struggling while trying to push back a furious Megatron. The newly appointed co-captain of the Lost Light was trying to claw his way past him, insulting him with some very colorful words of choice.

“Aww, they’re hugging. That’s so sweet. We should give them their privacy.” Whirl said with a hitch in his voice, giddily clasping is two claws together.

“Shut up Whirl.” Rodimus commanded and then ordered for Megatron to stand down this very second.

“I’m going to rip out his optics with my bare hands first!” Megatron yelled back. He was getting so agitated that Ultra Magnus was just absorbing all his punches so easily. It made Megatron’s thoughts stray for a moment as he wondered what it would have been like if Ultra Magnus was in the gladiatorial ring with him all those eons ago. He wasn’t computing the fact he would have ever won against the miner, of course not, but he would have given him a good run for his credits, surely. Megatron blamed the tight space of the small room for being the only reason he hadn’t already stormed passed him. 

“He said he has the right to, ugh, to, argh- Megatron stop this!” Ultra Magnus tried to explain against the grappling beast made up of angry metal. The Prime tried to help and come up behind Megatron and bring an arm his throat to pull him back. He only managed to tilt Megatron at the perfect angle to allow him to backhand Ultra Magnus in the chin very hard and then smash himself backwards into the wall, flattening Rodimus against it. Rodimus gave out a very satisfying “HHHUUUGGHHH” as Megatron threw all his weight into him. Had Magnus not been there to counter Megatron’s weight by pulling him in the other direction, Rodimus would have ended up in the medbay with half of his innards crushed. 

“A little, ow-ow-ow, help here guys?” Rodimus said from the floor when he slide down, wrapping his arms and holding his midsection close to himself. When Whirl happily jumped the silver mech, Megatron yielded. He wasn’t going to get his chance to wrap his large steel hands around Brainstorm’s throat, not with Whirl now helping Ultra Magnus push him back. His gaze turned to see Cyclonus coolly watch him, not about to just jump in like Rodimus and Whirl had, and whoever the other blue and much taller and skinnier bot. He was clearly not brave enough to just step in and actually face Megatron in a hand to hand brawl, instead held his blaster out in front of him. Megatron hadn’t bothered to learn half of the crews’ names yet and ignored the rest of the gawking Autobots. 

Rodimus hoisted himself off the ground, pushing off one knee to stand up straight. He grimaced a bit when certain platting at his joints were slightly out of alignment and pitched at certain cables and fuel lines as he stood. 

Ultra Magnus gave Megatron a solid push back against the wall, a silent command to “stay.” Megatron growled at him and Magnus did little more than just frown down at him. Even in his very rational brain he knew that Megatron had some right to be as upset as he was. Although he knew when Megatron was yelling about killing someone, he didn’t mean it metaphorically, like most. Just after Preceptor announced to Rodimus over the radio that Brainstorm had returned, Megatron turned and smashed the sniper’s head into the computer screen and kicked him off of his chair. Ultra Magnus was so taken aback by the very sudden bust of violence especially after he did that before and nearly busted Preceptor’s jaw when he demanded to be sent back in time to defend his past self. This time Megatron didn’t even give Preceptor the chance to react with a frim talking-down-to. The much larger mech saw the location of Brainstorm on the computer screen and saw red. Megatron elbowed Preceptor so hard in the back of the head, Ultra Magnus had his gun on him before the other red and blue mech could hit the ground, completely out cold. Megatron yelled at Ultra Magnus that if Brainstorm thought he could just stand before him, with his freshly created circuits, t-cog, brain modular, his very own unlit spark displayed before him like some pinned moth display and try to murder him while he was completely defenseless, he was out of his goddamned mind. Ultra Magnus was sure that a very large part of this over whelming anger was coming from Megatron’s own massive ego, and he wasn’t about to let some self-righteous Autobot get away with seeing him so helpless and weak like that. 

Assuming his up-right position, Rodimus glared those clear blue optics of his as hard as he could at Megatron. He looked at Preceptor slumped over at his chair and turned to Magnus with a raised optic ridge. He highly doubted Megatron would waste the energy to off the ship’s only microscope just because he was wanted to very severely slug Brainstorm in the face. Ultra Magnus nodded once, reassuring him there was no need to worry. Nothing a pint of cold energon and half a day in a quiet recharge in his room that wouldn’t help heal when Preceptor came to. 

“Well now that we were all properly welcomed back, thank you for that by the way Megatron, and now that you’ve also had yourself a little fit, what’s going on?”

“That crazed weapon scientist of yours almost erased me from existence and no doubtingly somehow reprehensible damaging the very fabric of space somehow, and you ask me ‘what’s going on?’” Megatron words were cold jagged piece of steel, and everyone one hit Rodimus in his chest. This was a very different kind of anger then from what Rodimus saw come from the War Lord on the battlefield.

Rodimus shrugged. 

“Yeah, well, he didn’t. So no harm, no foul.” 

Ultra Magnus and Whirl were quick to slam Megatron back against the wall, when he tried to lunge at the younger co-captain for such disrespect.

“Rodimus!” Ultra Magnus scolded, struggling with Whirl to keep Megatron from trying to rip Rodimus to pieces. 

“He tried to murder me, and now I have the right to retaliate. I’m going to –“

“This isn’t a Decepticon warship, Megatron, and those are definitely not the rules. Or have you forgotten that this isn’t your monarch court of Hail Lord Megs.” It was Rodimus’ turn to spit back and use his own anger against Megatron’s.   
“This is MY ship and we’re handling it MY way. I’ll have a private meeting with Brainstorm right now, and you’re more than welcome to be there, you have THAT right as co-captain.” 

He turned to everyone still behind him.

“You are all dismissed from your Hyper Time Traveling Save The Galaxy A.S.A.P. assignment. I, and I’m sure Megatron does too, thank you for all your services. Go get a drink. Not on me of course, I’m not made of gold, but you’ve all earned your Rodimus Star today gentleman.”

Rodimus sure did have his ways to regain his charming and authoritative demeanor back with ease. From getting flattened by Megatron, embarrassingly so, and ending up on the floor with a groan, to having the Ex-Leader of the Decepticons glaring at him with a loss of words, was to say a little on the impressive side. 

“What about Brainstorm?” Chromedome asked. 

“I just said I will deal with him.”

“What about us?” Rung said, from behind everyone else. 

Rodimus’ mouth flattened harshly.

“What about you?”

“I hope you’re not having a little meeting with him to showboat yourself as some sort of grand Autobot hero that found out a Decepticon spy within his ranks and then traveled through time itself to stop him from committing an unforgivable crime and act just to say you “saved” Cybertron.” 

“Oh for crying out loud, Rung! What do you WANT?”

“Well I for one would like to know why and how he poisoned our fellow crew mates.” Rung simply said with a hand on his chin. He looked deeply puzzled, one eyebrow raised high up. His calm manner agitated Rodimus to no end. 

“I want to know what’s up with his faceplate! Is he a Con or not?!” Riptide said. 

Chromedome nodded and agreed with Riptide. “I’m actually very curious and very, very, very, VERY concerned about that too. I’ve been trying to fit the pieces together, and nothing makes senses, it’s not adding up. I’ve known Brainstorm for almost all my life and he’s never done anything like this before. Plus, you know,” He looked down at Rewind. “The whole “Other Us” thing seems super important too.”

“I can’t be the only one who’s dying to hear about how he actually managed to achieve time travel, am I? Like, you know, in the movies?” Tailgate asked. 

Rodimus pitched the bridge of his nose. He looked at Cyclonus. The old warrior just stared back at him, expressionless. 

“And you? What do you want?”

“I supposed I’m a bit curious as to whom Brainstorm pulled from the history time line and is currently standing with in the labs.”

Rodimus snapped his head back up, his mouth hanging open a little. Everyone else suddenly remembered that little piece of important information. 

“Oh CRAP. I totally forgot about that. Preceptor, I need-“He turned to the still unconscious scientist. 

“Oh. Right, never mind. Change of plans. Ultra Magnus, you and I will go round up Brainstorm and his hostage, or guest, or whoever it is he’s with and we’ll have to go from there. Just cause he’s back in this time line doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a new trick up his sleeve to try and murder us all… again.”

“Oh come on,” Chromedome interjected. “He’s not going to start killing us all now when he had literally a million other chances to do it before. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again and again, he’s not a Decepticon.”  
Rodimus didn’t look fully convinced.

“Yeah, we still gotta deal with THAT too. Court hearing postponed until further notice. Magnus, with me. Whirl, make sure Megatron goes down the opposite end of the lab.”

Megatron swatted at Ultra Magnus’ and Whirl’s hands, and with as much pride as he could muster told them not to bother. They allowed him to move past the two large Autobots and he did indeed turn away from the lab and headed back to his hab suite, sulking, but without further incident. For now. 

“Ugh. Now I have to deal with that too. Right then, Magnus, if you would.”

Magnus went first, Rodimus stopped at the door and turned back to the others.

“Someone call Ratchet and get help for Precy. Everyone else will be notified of further proceedings and updates later. Other than that, good job everyone. I feel like this is the fourth time we’ve saved the universe together in the past month. Kay, bye.”

Rodimus gave them a thumbs up and ducked out of the door. He come up next to Ultra Magnus and started to wonder what their next step was going to be. Not like he’s had to deal with his sort of situation before. Not that this situation has ever happened before. Ever. This better be going down in his Autopedia later. Something along the lines of being awesome and time traveling and saving everything. 

Rodimus looked over his shoulder and saw his Time Traveling Team slowly come out of the room and make their separate ways down various hallways. He saw Chromedome try to put a hand on Rewind’s back, who flinched away from him and then they turned and were out of sight. Riptide stepped out the door and stopped, his arms crossed over his chest. His cool composer totally distorted when he stubbled into the hallway wall, face first, as he was pushed out of the way when Whirl shoved him as he exited.   
Rodimus didn’t question it when Getaway appeared from down one of the halls and went into the room, to emerge with an arm around Tailgate a second later, leading him down the way he came.

Cyclonus never came out. Neither did Rung. They must have drawn the short end of the stick and were appointed to see to Preceptor’s poor head. Good. 

Rodimus Prime turned up to Ultra Magnus. The huge Autobot looked grime, as he always did, but it was easy to read him when he was more worried than anything else.

“What’s up?” Rodimus asked. 

“I’m not sure. I don’t have the necessary protocol to handle a time traveling criminal that technically didn’t commit a direct crime. Nor what to do with a theoretical accomplice from another era.”

Rodimus nodded along to Magnus’ concerns. He didn’t have any answers for anything either. Playing it all by ear seemed to be going rather well so far. 

“Good job on stopping Brainstorm from killing Megatron, I suppose is something I should congratulate you and the others on. Even though that seems like the most backhanded compliment that anyone has ever said in the past 8 million years.”   
“Eh…we kinda didn’t.” 

“Meaning?”

Rodimus shrugged again, his hands turned up. 

“I dunno. Brainstorm said he was going to kill Megatron, that was his “plan” but he never got to it, I guess.”

“You ‘guess’?”

Rodimus shook his head.

“He said that was his plan, but that it got “too big”. That he was going to do something else before he ran out of time.” 

This caused Ultra Magnus to ponder. 

“So you’re saying Brainstorm never made it to Megatron?”

“Well no. We thought he was going after Orion Pax, turns out we were totally wrong about that.”

“Yes, Megatron suspected as much when the dates Brainstorm was landing in didn’t seem to hold any significance to Pax’s history, but rather his own. But the last jump, that day was why Megatron got so riled up. That was his creation date.”

“No kidding? Huh. Well that would have been cool to see- A big pile of Megatron parts being put together like a tinker toy. Push evil piece A into evil slot B. Ha! Classic.”

Ultra Magnus didn’t share his humorous vision of the situation and now they were both in front of the lab doors. They both drew their guns. Rodimus lifted his hand to tap the keys on the door when Ratchet came up next to them in a swift jog, his medical kit case swinging in his hand. 

“Ratchet? What’s the matter? Is Preceptor hurt that badly you had to come run up here and tell us?”

Ratchet’s head tilted to the side, clearly looking a little confused. He gestured with his free hand to the lab doors and pointed.

“Is that who needs help? Is Preceptor in there? Brainstorm called me- welcome back by the way- and said this was an emergency and he needed assistance immediately at the labs. What’s wrong with Preceptor?”

Ultra Magnus and Rodimus exchanged confused looks. 

“Preceptor is in the communication’s room, knocked out.” Ratchet was going to ask the whys and whos, and Rodimus just said “Megatron”. Ratchet nodded with an “Aha.”

“But he’s ok. What did Brainstorm tell you?”

Ratchet’s face went from confused to concern. 

“Nothing. That’s the problem and that’s why I have my kit. He didn’t give any details, just that I needed to hurry and cut off the commlink.” 

“There’s someone else in there with him”. Ultra Magnus informed Ratchet and raised his gun against him. It was now or never. Ratchet took a step back as Rodimus pushed in the clearance code and the door to the lab slide open. That was a small relief. At least they weren’t about to have a Mexican Stand Off with Brainstorm in the hallway. 

It was Brainstorm alright, slightly shot up from wherever, whenever, he had jumped to. A big chunk of his wing was missing and minor scratches were all over him. Brainstorm seemed virtually untouched compared to the mech that was barely standing on their feet in his arms. He held them close, a pure white mech, or at least Rodimus could only guess he was supposed to be white, his armor plating was so dirty and so many pieces were missing he might as well has been silver and black. His structural skeleton could be seen poking throughout his very skinny frame, and it reminded Rodimus to why he wasn’t a doctor. He didn’t have too much of a stomach for these types of things when it wasn’t in the middle of a battle field. It was when such horror and pain was separated from such a violent scenario, that it made him a little unsteady. The mech’s helm was bashed in, half of his face was scorched, his bottom jaw was missing, limp wires hung from one of his optic openings. Poorly burned drawings of scribbly Decepticon insignias and nasty Cybertronian slurs decorated him across his body over and over again. 

In the short time they all had been standing there, a small pool of the other mech’s spilling oils and fluids, and what little bit of energon he had in him were pooling around Brainstorm’s feet. 

“Ratchet.” Brainstorm whispered smoothly, shattering the shocking silence of the room. The white mech flinched when he spoke, but still clung on with his one hand on Brainstorm’s forearm. Rodimus noticed his other hand, his other arm actually was missing up this shoulder as well. “Think you can help him out? I would really appreciate it if you could.” 

Ratchet rushed in, and stood next to Brainstorm, checking the other mech over. It was pointless to do so, nobody had to tell Ratchet just how damaged Brainstorm’s guest was. He just had to make sure they would survive the short trip to the medbay, or if they would go into spark failure before they could even reach the door. 

“Put him in.” Ratchet ordered and then transformed into his vehicle mode. “Help him, Captain.”

Rodimus snapped to it, and braced his large gold hands under the new mech’s back and waist and pulled up his other arm, the one with the missing hand over his shoulders. Brainstorm helped him guide that broken body downward as gently as they could, and eased him into Ratchet’s back space. The mech’s dead thousand eye stare glowed a faint blue, it flicked of course. It must have been one of the last things that actually worked on him. Ratchet closed his own doors and then revved up his engine. Ultra Magnus stepped out of the way and the doctor and his new patient zoomed out of the lab. 

The awkward silence in the room between the captain, the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord, and the Decepticon double agent was something on a whole new level. Brainstorm’s gaze stayed on where Ratchet has left and then it dropped to the floor. 

“Brainstorm, I am here by putting you under arrest for the crimes against your fellow Autobots and the yet to be determined crimes of the cosmos itself.” 

Brainstorm solemnly nodded and put his hands up for Ultra Magnus to cuff them when he began to approach him. Rodimus grimaced when he saw that his hands were dripping the white mech’s oil, his whole front was smeared with it too. Ultra Magnus secured his wrists and grabbed Brainstorm’s shoulder, leading him out of the room and down to the holding cells below deck. Brainstrom remained silently, and just looked at his wrist. He didn’t look at the cuffs, he wasn’t upset about being caught. He just stared at the golden band that swung limply with a broken chain dangling off it. The main Time Case must had been completely destroyed during his final job, disintegrating into nothingness when he appeared back on the ship. Brainstorm was probably the only one who was going to be able to remove it from himself. Rodimus doubted a simple pair of bolt cutters was going to cut that thing off him. It didn’t matter right now. He would have something to stare at while he sat in the detention center. 

Rodimus felt a headache start to form in the middle of his head and he leaned back against one of the lab counters. He looked down at the small pool of oil and energon next to him, Brainstorm’s feet tracked a path of his own footprints to the door like some sort of eerie marking as he was taken away. Brainstorm had pulled a living ghost out of the past with him, and now whoever he was so surely going to end up haunting the ship if Ratchet couldn’t save him. It just didn’t look like there was much to save at this point and yet Brainstorm had saved whatever little piece of that mech as he could. Regardless of how incredibly damaged he was. I’m sure the crew was going to get a kick out of Brainstorm’s reasoning for all this. The poisoning, the time travel, the mystery boy, and hopefully a good reason for being a Decepticon. 

“Uuuooh boy.” Rodimus said to nobody and made his way down to “Visages”. He was going to need one hell of a drink. And unfortunately, Swerve’s were too diluted.


End file.
